


that's so us

by Nina_683



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina_683/pseuds/Nina_683
Summary: When Chan agreed to marry Minho to qualify for financial aid, he didn't expect all the feelings that would come with it





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from That's So Us - Allie X

It had been a pretty normal evening.

Lying on the couch, surfing channels boredly as he listened to Felix Skyping his boyfriend across the hall- pretty standard.

He'd gotten off work early, and promised himself a night-in; just him, the TV and his coffee. (And Felix, but he simply ignored him for the most part). 

He sighs, changing the channel again and taking a sip from the cup in his palms. Everything is quiet, save for the low, dulcet tones of Felix, a consistent, quiet buzz at the back of Chan's mind. 

That's when Minho bursts through the door, clothes soaking wet and eyes wide. 

His clothes drip onto the welcome mat, making Chan wince at the puddle pooling under his feet. He's distracted from the hazard by what his friend says next, however.

“Marry me.” Minho gaps, kicking the door shut behind him. There are small droplets of rain littered throughout his hair, glinting in the light of the hallway. “Marry me.” He repeats, panting.

Chan drops his coffee.

#

It takes a while for Chan to calm Minho down, directing him over the sofa and forcing him to sit still. He keeps fidgeting, fingers intertwining and unlacing constantly, and Chan has the overwhelming urge to smack his hands so they remain still.

“So, let me get this right.” Chan begins, and out the corner of his eye he can see Minho straighten from his slumped position. “You want me to marry you so we can qualify for financial aid and you can pay for your university fees.”

Minho nods dejectedly, blowing his fringe out his eyes. He dyed it blonde a couple of days ago, but Chan isn’t a fan because he keeps mistaking him for Felix from the back. “Pretty much.” Minho agrees, shrugging. “I’m in so much debt, I don’t know what to do. I was talking to this girl at the bar about how her sister married her friend to get financial aid and-,” he shrugs again, “I ran here as fast as I could.”

“Yes, I can see that.” Chan deadpans, referring to his dishevelled state. “Through the pouring rain no less.”

Minho holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Couldn’t be late to my own wedding, could I?” He quips, grinning.

If anyone asks, Chan will say it’s that grin that wrecks him every time, that cheeky half-curve where you can the top row of his teeth and his eyes glint with mischievousness. Minho knows he can’t say no, especially not to that.

He sighs, getting his coat from the hook. “Come on then.” He says expectantly, turning back towards Minho. “Let’s go get married.”

#

(“Chan it’s midnight.”)

(“... Let’s get married tomorrow then!”)

#

And so they do, the next day after classes.

Their witnesses are Felix, who couldn’t care less about the whole affair, and Minho’s parents who seem to subtly amused by the decision. A very concise wedding, the priest later comments, and Chan agrees wholeheartedly. He has a 5 page essay due in the next day, like hell he’s wasting time on a wedding of all things.

Minho thoroughly enjoys the event, taking selfies with the priest and forcing Chan to gulp down large amounts of cake. “It’s good for you,” he insists, patting the boy’s back a tad aggressively. Chan doesn’t answer, too busy trying not to die.

Felix slinks off half-way through, which Chan probably should’ve been more concerned about but he’s still holding a grudge against him for eating all the Coco Pops in the morning. He’s 17 anyway, little brother or no, he can handle himself.

When it hits 6 they pack up, Minho cursing the education system for cutting his wedding short all the while. His parents drive off after hurried goodbyes, half-heartedly warning their son to be easy on Chan, but they know he won’t listen. Felix is still nowhere to be found, but Chan has good faith in his navigational skills after living in the same area for five years, and trust he’ll return home safely.

They begin the walk home, taking the long route around the park because Minho wanted to ‘enjoy their wedding night’ which Chan snorts at but accepts reluctantly. Minho is wrapped up snugly in two coats, a hat and a scarf, but the tip of his nose is bright red and Chan finds himself staring at it, like he’s Rudolph or something. It’s just really distracting he tells himself, wrapping his own scarf tighter. It’s not like I’m concerned about his health or anything.

“You know,” Minho begins suddenly and Chan is startled out of his thoughts, “I wouldn’t mind marrying you for real. You’re a great friend.” He confesses, and Chan’s face grows warm with heat.

“Ah, thank you? I think?” He returns awkwardly, but Minho just laughs.

“I thinks it says a lot,” the boy continues, “that when the question of who to marry came up, my first choice was you.” His voice becomes higher towards the end of the sentence, and Chan can feel that Minho is trying to hint at something, trying to provoke a certain response but he’s completely lost, so he just shrugs.

“Yeah. I guess.” Is his confused reply, and there is an audible sound of Minho face-palming. The other boy laughs again, revealing that smile that Chan is so weak for.

Minho shakes his head, grinning fondly. “Ah, you idiot.” He mutters lowly, breath blowing cold puffs of water moisture in the air. “You’ll get it one day, Bang Chan, you’ll get it one day.”

#

“Hey Chan!” Felix calls, beckoning his older brother over. “Go over these sentences for me, if Madame Lopez finds I’ve written them wrong again she’ll have my head.”

Chan rolls his eyes, abandoning his towel on one of the chairs as he walks over. It seems that drying his hair will have to wait till later. “Okay, let’s see.” He hums, going over the messily-scribbled upon homework sheet Felix thrusts towards him.

He sighs in disappointment as he reads the first sentence, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fe, what did you mean to write in the first exercise?” Felix looks over his shoulder at the sheet, lips pursing in thought.

“That one? I wrote ‘my dad is 45 years old.” He explains, looking up at him.

“Okay, first of all he’s 46, and you seem to have accidentally written: ‘my potato has 45 assholes.” Chan deadpans, correcting it. “Looking through, the rest of it seems to be fine though.” He states, getting up and reclaiming his towel. He can feel where the water has dripped down into his shirt and regrets not drying his hair properly.

Felix buries his head in his hands mournfully. “I’m never going to pass Spanish.” He moans, banging his head against the leg of the sofa next to him.

Chan waves a hand in dismissal. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Minho wrote in his exam that his pope had 38 anuses, you’ll be fine. The sentences are surprisingly, and worryingly similar.” He reassures, ruffling his little brother’s hair as he walks past.

“At least I didn’t mess up that badly.” Felix mutters, recovering from his two second existential crisis. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers as if remembering something, “tell Minho when he comes that he needs to help me go over my choreography for the showcase. I need to beat that bastard, Hyunjin.” He states, expression dark.

Chan raises an eyebrow. “I thought you said he was hot?”  
“Chan!” Felix hisses, turning bright red. “I have a boyfriend!”

“...Doesn’t Changbin also think he’s hot?”

Felix sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Oh my god, why do I tell you anything if you’re actually going to remember it? Yes, we both think he’s fit as hell but he’s also a bastard who always shows me up in dance class.” He finishes with a flip of his fringe that he definitely learnt from Minho, gathering his homework and leaving to his room.

Chan remains standing in the middle of his living room, confused. “Kids.” He mutters in summarisation, before shaking his head and entering the kitchen.

Ever since they’d gotten married Minho had come round for dinner, leaving Chan to make dinner not only for his ungrateful brother, but for Minho too. “I like your cooking though,” Minho had whined when Chan protested against this, “it reminds me of home.” He finishes quietly, and while his own parents are in Australia, is must be hard for Minho as well to be so far away from home.

So, he relents and provides dinner in his apartment, either through actual cooking or take-out, throwing a phone and menu at Minho as he enters the apartment. After dinner they usually revise or work together, though with Minho it’s hard to stay focused when he drapes himself around Chan, hot breaths puffing against the back of his neck. It completely ruins his concentration, so some nights, he relegates him to Felix’s room, who is thrilled.

He has a bit of a hero worship thing going on for the older boy, and finds him ‘cool’, and a dance inspiration. Chan is a tad bit upset that Felix has never called him cool, but accepts it. He’s just happy they get along so well. 

His favourite nights are the weekends, when they curl up on the sofa and put on a random movie as they eat their way through a bucket of popcorn each, though Minho always tries to steal Chan’s anyway. Without fail, every time he drifts off towards the end of the movie, usually stretched along Chan like some kind of human octopus. He doesn’t mind it though, and absentmindedly pets his hair as the movie comes to a finish, revelling in the warmth. Sometimes he swears he can see Minho’s eyes open, but dismisses it as his imagination.

Chan’s in the middle of cutting some onions when his phone buzzes on the counter, alerting him to a text. He wipes his hands on his apron before checking it, opening up Minho’s icon.

‘ **Sorry!** ’ It says, ‘ **Can’t make dinner tonight, I have a date! Have fun though, with Lix!** ’

“A date?” He mutters lowly, vaguely aware of Felix making his way downstairs again. “We’re married, and he’s on a date?”

“Well to be fair, you never he said he couldn’t go on dates.” Felix reasons, entering the kitchen. “You could go on a date too, if you wanted to.”

“I don’t fucking want to go on a date,” Chan snarls, brandishing his onion knife, “I want to have dinner and watch a movie with my actual husband.”

Felix holds his hands up in surrender, not pushing the matter. Chan’s phone goes off again, and he glances at the screen to see a selfie of Minho and Jisung smiling together at the camera, cheeks pressed together. 

He very calmly places his phone face-down on the counter, taking a step back. “Felix, I think I’m going to faint. Catch me.” He instructs serenely.

“Wait what-”

#

 

“You really think this is going to work?” Minho asks, biting his lip anxiously.

Jisung rolls his eyes. “Of course dummy, stop worrying. A bit of jealousy is what he needs to realise his feelings.”

“I really hope you’re right.” Minho mutters, scrolling through his conversation with Chan. He still hasn’t replied yet.

He sighs, locking his phone. “Come on!” Jisung exclaims cheerfully, pulling Minho along by the arm. “Let’s go enjoy our fake-date!”

He’s pulled along mercilessly, phone burning a hole through his back pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .


	2. 2

“See the thing is,” Chan gripes to Felix who hums uninterestedly, “I’m mad that it’s Jisung of all people? Like, I’m the one who introduced them!” He complains.

“Oh, yeah.” Felix nods, scrolling through his phone.

“I used to play in the sandbox with Jisung, I’ve been one of his best friends for 12 years now; and neither of them thought to tell me that they were in interested in each other.” Chan huffs, toying with the strap on his phone. “I’m feeling a bit betrayed.”

Felix looks up from his phone, levelling him a flat stare. “You sure that’s the only reason you’re feeling betrayed?”

Chan tilts his head to the side in confusion. “I mean yeah, I’m just upset that they didn’t tell me.”

His brother puts his phone down, walking closer so they’re eye-to-eye. “Are you absolutely, 100% sure that’s the only reason you’re upset?” Felix asks slowly, staring him down.

“...Yeah?”

Felix sighs, grabbing his phone from the counter. “I give up. Minho will have to do this himself.” He abandons his cause, leaving the kitchen with a careless wave. “I’m gonna go call Changbin, I’ll reheat dinner when I’m done.” He calls as he reaches the stairs.

“You talked to him before lunch!” Chan shouts incredulously, still puzzled from the bizarre questioning he’d been subjected to.

Felix scoffs. “Yeah, and lunch was like 6 hours ago, I have stuff to update him on.” With that, he turns and lopes up the stairs two at a time, like a particularly skinny, uncoordinated species of antelope.

“Why do I always leave every conversation with him more confused than when I started out?” He mutters under his breath, scratching his head. Deciding it must be one of the numerous ill-effects of puberty on the boy, he shrugs and continues making dinner for the two of them.

If he cuts the onions slightly more aggressively than needed, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

#

“Ooh, let’s go on that roller coaster!” Minho suggests, bouncing up on down on the balls of his feet excitedly. He has a pair of cat ears on his head, and some sort of weird face-paint Jisung made him put on within minutes of arriving at the theme park as well a little too much candy floss inside him.

“Oh please no.” Jisung whimpers clinging onto his sleeve as he puts his hands on his knees. “I still feel like I’m going to throw up from the last ride.” 

A woman passing by glances at Jisung in concern, but Minho cheerfully waves her on. “The last ride we went on was an hour ago. You’ve made us sit on this bench ever since, watching Mickey the Mouse try and hide from the children so he can make out with Cinderella.”

“I have stomach issues.” Jisung snaps, glaring at the older boy. “It’s not my fault my stomach wages war on me if I even try and go on a trampoline.”

Minho rolls his eyes, sticking the last piece of candy floss in his mouth sullenly. “ Worst fake-date ever.” He states glumly, letting the sugar dissolve on his tongue. “All for nothing. All he texted back was ‘K’.”

“And that’s how you know he’s upset.” Jisung claims, waggling a skinny finger in smugness. “Chan is anything but a succinct texter, and will take every opportunity to load his texts with emojis and lengthy amounts of words.” He straightens, colour returning to his face somewhat.

Minho grins shyly, fiddling with his hands. “Really? I mean, I know it’s out of character for him, but do you think it’s really because he’s jealous?”

The other boy flashes a reassuring smile. “Trust me. I know so.”

In a way it’s a big disadvantage meeting Chan so late, that Minho feels like he doesn’t know nearly enough about him. He knows the little, insignificant things about him, but none of the important stuff, like his home-life or much about his childhood. 

Instead he knows how Chan likes his coffee first thing in the morning- black, because nothing else can wake him up. He knows that Chan raps to himself in the shower and pretends he’s part of a K-Pop group, and can perfectly recount how his hair is naturally fluffy and curly in the morning and that he loves dyeing it because it was Felix who first suggested the colour changes.

He knows that Chan hates the sound of his own voice and refuses to be played back on video, and that he secretly loves dancing but is too busy to take it up again. He’s familiar with the way his eyes crinkle into little crescents when he finds something hilarious, and knows exactly the expression he has when he looks at something he loves, because Chan does it everytime he looks at Felix.

Minho complains to Jisung as much, who simply smiles and shakes his head. “If you ask me, those are the real important things to know. I’ve been with him since we were in nappies, but in a way, you know him better than me.”

A roller coaster runs by behind them, people screaming hoarsely as they pass. Jisung gulps at the sight of the ride, face turning a distinct shade of green.

“Okay,” Minho says, taking Jisung’s sleeve, “as touching as that was, we should probably leave before you vomit on Mickey.” He nods to the giant mouse who is holed up in a corner with Cinderella, a five-year old pointing at the two characters and crying nearby.

# 

Minho drops a very ill-looking Jisung off at his dorm, promising to buy lots of cake as compensation for forcing him on the rides. He makes a jibe about the cakes potentially being a bad idea seeing as he hurled on Winnie-the-Pooh as they were leaving the park, and the door is promptly slammed in his face.

He has to remember to properly thank the boy at some point for helping him, but for now he’s only interested in getting home. Minho walks to Chan’s apartment in the bitter cold, jamming his hands deep into the pockets of his coat so they’re not bitten by the frosty air.

It’s not a long walk, and he’s there in minutes, opening the front door with a relieved sigh, letting the hot air wash over him. “I’m home.” He announces quietly, taking his shoes off and padding past the dark living room.

Felix sits alone at the kitchen table, jamming a fork repeatedly into his bowl of noodles. He looks up when Minho enters the kitchen, speaking quietly. “This isn’t your home,” the boy says, “your home is a mile away, in the dorms.”

Minho shrugs easily. “But you and Chan are here, so it’s home to me.” He explains, grabbing a fork from one of the drawers.

Felix wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Oh my god, when did you get so cringy? Chan must be rubbing off on you.” He bats away Minho’s attempts to steal some of the noodles, pointing his dirtied fork menacingly at him.

“No!” He exclaims, “no noodles for people who don’t show up at dinner.” He eyes Minho suspiciously as he takes a bite, daring him to try and take some.

Minho quite values his life, so he decides candy floss will have to be his sole source of nourishment for the day. “It doesn’t matter,” he sulks, “I only missed one day.”

“Yeah, to go on a date.” Felix stresses the last word, glaring at him. “He was proper upset you know, actually went to sleep at a reasonable time and everything.”

“Maybe I should go on dates more often then.” Minho muses, excited at the prospect of Chan actually going to sleep on time. 

Even when they were roommates in university, Chan had constantly stayed up till the morning working on something or the other, and Minho had been forced to conjure up increasingly complex ways to convince him to go to bed. Sometimes he wonders if the work is just a front for badly-concealed insomnia.

“Point is,” Felix continues, interrupting Minho’s thoughts, “he was upset, so he definitely likes you back, but he just doesn’t know it yet. I've tried to push him in the right direction but he's thicker than a brick. So, you know, just convince him.”

Minho opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by Felix raising a hand in protest.

“Not by going on dates.” He says sternly, watching Minho pout in disappointment, having his idea rejected. “I don’t want him to cry into my noodles again, they’re salty enough without his tears added.”

#  
When Chan wakes up, the first thing he glimpses as he opens his eyes his someone’s face extremely close to his, and screams as any sane human would do. Someone shushes him, and he looks up to see that it’s Minho standing above him.

“Hi!” Minho waves cheerfully, smiling as if it’s completely normal to appear in someone’s bedroom in the morning without any warning.

“Minho,” He splutters, “why’re you-”

“Shhh.” Minho soothes, cutting him off. “Come on, get dressed. We’re going ice-skating.” He grins, lips pulling back and Chan is instantly gone.

It's that damn smile, he curses, rubbing the sleep out his eyes, always that damn smile that he's a fool for.

"Sure, why not." He sighs, agreeing, and Minho's eyes light up in excitement. 


	3. 3

“I may have not thought this through in great detail.” Minho concedes, watching Chan flounder by the edge of the rink helplessly. “You’re a lot less athletically capable than I thought.”

Chan grabs the railing with a flailing hand, pulling himself up to glare at Minho. “Bitch, I told you I couldn’t ice-skate but you still brought me here.” He grumbles, flipping him the bird and consequently gaining a scandalised look from a mother skating by.

There are little plastic penguins with protruding handlebars littered about the ice, meant for children to grip while they skate. Technically, you’re supposed to pay to rent them for a certain amount of time, but Chan can see a number of them left unattended, around the rink. The staff member in charge of monitoring is on his phone, barely glancing up every ten minutes, so he’s pretty sure he can use one of the penguins without being caught.

He begins to skate over to one of the abandoned penguins, the one with red handles. Minho follows his gaze to the object curiously, eyes widening as he realises what the boy has set his sights on. “Chan, no!” He calls, hurriedly skating after him. “Not the penguin!”

“It’s my penguin now!” Chan shouts back, stumbling over to it. Minho follows closely behind, reaching for his flailing limbs.

Chan reaches for the penguin, arms outstretched , but misses it completely and ends up heading straight for the wall. Seeing this, Minho grabs the back of his sweater in an attempt to pull him back, but loses his balance and falls, dragging Chan down with him with a yelp.

The Australian squawks in indignation as he lands on the ice, already feeling it seep through his clothes. Minho groans from above him, massaging his shoulder gingerly. Chan is concerned for a split-second for the boy, before realising he has more pressing matters, such as his lungs being crushed.

“Get off, you fat oaf.” Chan groans, pushing at Minho’s arm. The boy wriggles his way off, pausing momentarily to wiggle his eyebrows at Chan before standing up shakily, using the penguin for support.

Chan grabs the other handlebar, pulling himself up on unsteady feet. His arm is still warm from where Minho had lain on it, and tries not to think about the heat emanating from the other boy too hard. “My penguin.” He grunts, pulling it over to his side.

Minho grins fondly at the act of childishness, seeming to have given up on dissuading him. “Yeah, your penguin.” He agrees, dusting off Chan’s jacket where bits of frost have accumulated. 

The boy huffs, turning away and gliding off on the penguin. “Come chase me, bitch!” Chan calls, speeding away triumphantly.

“Hey! No fair, you had a head start!” Minho protests, laughing as he skates after him.

#

“I’m going to hell, Seungminnie, I really am.” Felix mutters dazedly, watching Hyunjin pull up his shirt to wipe his face. He takes a frantic gulp of his water bottle, keeping his eyes on the boy as he drinks.

Seungmin rolls his eyes, used to his dramatics. “I think your fate was already sealed when you started going out with Changbin. I’m telling you, that boy dresses like Lucifer’s incarnate.” He comments, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Yeah, but he acts like the Good Witch of Oz, so it evens out.” Felix defends absentmindedly, too focused on Hyunjin’s arm muscles to think of intelligent conversation. 

Hyunjin lifts up his shirt again, and Felix all but throws his water bottle all over his face in an effort to cool down.  
“Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?” He asks, fanning himself quickly.

Seungmin sighs, taking out his phone to text Jeongin seeing as Felix is heavily distracted. He can already tell it’s going to be a long day.

#

After stealing one of the penguins, Chan skates around for a while, bumping into others and generally being a clumsy nuisance, but enjoying himself nonetheless, Minho, who does not have the luxury of a penguin to keep him going, folds at about noon, and they head off the rink.

Chan leaves his red penguin on the ice, blowing it a departing kiss as Minho drags him away. 

“Bye, Billy!” He calls after it, waving as he goes.

“Billy?”

“I named it Billy.” Chan explains, holding the door open for Minho. “I felt like we really bonded in our short time together, and so I had to give it a name.” He states it as if the logic behind the decision is obvious, and Minho has to bite his tongue to keep a straight face.

They leave the building, entering the cold winter air of Seoul. Minho shivers, and is about to ask Chan if he’s feeling warm enough when the other boy suddenly pipes up. “Speaking of bonds,” he starts hesitantly, “what happened with you and Jisung last night? How was the date?”

Chan doesn’t meet his eyes as he asks, staring flatley at the ground. Minho allows a small grin to curl around his lips at his clear annoyance at the topic. Jisung was right, it truly had worked, just a little bit.

“It was great,” Minho deadpans, “he didn’t want to go any of the rides and he puked on Winnie-the-Pooh on the way out, so really superb.” 

Next to him, the tension in Chan’s shoulders drop, and his voice is breathy when he replies. “Ah, that’s too bad.” He sympathises half-heartedly, and Minho pretends not to hear the grin in his voice.

“Yeah, it was a shame,” Minho agrees, already thinking of an idea, “which is why you’re going to come to the bar with me tonight, and I can drink away my sorrows. And stuff.”

Chan’s drinks rarely, if ever, so it’s with bated breath that Minho waits for his answer. To his surprise, the boy shrugs, agreeing easily. “Yeah, sure. I haven’t been in a while.”

To be fair, that’s probably a good thing. Chan isn’t exactly a model patron after a few shots, and is one table-dance away from permanent ban from the establishment. Hopefully he wouldn’t feel the need to moonwalk on the bar counter this time- they had narrowly escaped a fine by dragging him out the bar and apologising profusely to the owner.

Come to think of it, Minho’s pretty sure he saw Chan’s picture on one of the dartboards in the owner’s office, pierced with multiple darts on his beaming face. 

That probably isn’t the best sign, but it isn’t as if there are a large selection of halfway-decent bars available to broke uni students. Hell, Minho has transcended that all together. He’s so broke, he married someone for more money. (Part of it may have also been a way to get closer to the crush he’d been nursing since the first-year of uni, but he chooses not to dwell on that too much).

“Come on,” Minho says, slinging an arm round Chan’s shoulders, “let’s go home.”

They may technically only be married for materialistic purposes, and the marriage is about as fake as it gets, but god, those words feel so right in his mouth.

“Home.” Chan echoes, gazing up at Minho. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

#

“I swear to God, Seungminnie, look at those arms, I’m sinning.” Felix groans, watching Hyunjin go over the choreography by the mirror.

Seungmin hums distractedly, focusing on the cracked screen of his iPhone. He’s only 10 points away from his high score, and is determined to beat it. He loads up the last bird, aiming carefully as he pulls it back and-

Felix grabs his arm, shaking it back and forth as he blabbers something unintelligible about Hyunjin taking off his shirt. His phone falls from his hands, and he can vaguely make out the last bird flopping pathetically to the floor. TRY AGAIN, the screen flashes in bright red letters, and Seungmin loses it.

“You!” He snarls viciously, tackling Felix to the floor without mercy. “You’re so thirsty all the time, so have some fucking water!” He grabs Felix’s water bottle and forces the water down his throat, splashing it all over the boy’s face.

“Seungmin, no!”

“DRINK!”


	4. Chapter 4

“I have made a terrible mistake.” Felix states solemnly, eyes fixed on the coffee table as he sips at his fruit juice.

Chan frowns, hanging his coat behind the door. “What kind of mistake?” He asks, unsure of whether or not he actually wants to know the answer. 

Felix’s definition of a mistake generally varies from anywhere between accidentally leaving a spoon in the microwave to burning down the school’s science department because he thought he saw a fly in the Bunsen Burner. (Their parents still have nightmares about the reparation costs).

“A bad one.” He unhelpfully elaborates, glaring at the Caprisun in his hand as if it were responsible for all his worldly problems. 

Chan nods. “Right, right. What did this mistake actually consist of?”

Felix sighs, leaning back in his chair with the air of one burdened with the weight of the world. “I asked Hyunjin to sit with me at lunch.” He reveals, closing his eyes as if the mere memory was too much to handle.

“... And this is a problem why?”

“Many reasons, but first and foremost: having lunch with me means having lunch with Seungmin and Changbin. Do you see my problem?”

“Not really.”

“Try harder.”

Chan shakes his head. “I’m lost. I don’t know, is it awkward to have lunch with your boyfriend and love interest?”

Felix snorts in amusement, waving a dismissive hand. “Please, the two are so in love it’s practically sickening. No, no, the problem is Seungmin.” He says as if this should make everything clear, but in reality leaves Chan even more confused.

“But Seungmin’s lovely,” Chan states, “he even brought handmade cookies for that teacher who was horrible to him in 5th grade, didn’t you say?”

“He spat in those cookies.”

“Wait-”

“But that’s besides the point.” Felix crumples the deflates Caprisun in his fist, attempting to throw it to the bin but it just floats pathetically to the floor. “The point is, that Seungmin… how should I put this?”

“Doesn’t like Hyunjin?” Chan suggests.

“Utterly despises him with the rage of three thousand burning suns would be more apt, I think.” Felix counters, tapping his chin in thought. “I mean, he doesn’t like Changbin either, but he tolerates him. Hyunjin on the other hand… it was the most uncomfortable lunch I’ve ever had, let’s just say that.”

#

_Felix slides in next to Hyunjin, pushing his tray along the table. The boy breaks off his chatter with Changbin as he sees Felix, eyes curving into crescents and smile widening._

__

__

_Opposite them, Seungmin stabs his fork into his chicken leg so hard that a piece flies off, onto Changbin’s lap. “Ah,” he says, taking the piece into his hands, “thank you. I’ll just, uh, keep this then.” Changbin stares at it with intense consideration, before ultimately discarding it in the bin, deciding not to eat it._

_Seungmin shoots him a glare but remains silent, biting viciously at the chicken while maintaining steady eye-contact with Hyunjin._

__

_“So,” Hyunjin begins, spreading his hands on the table, “prom, huh? Who’s excited for that?”_

__

_There is an echoing silence among the four, broken by Felix’s awkward chuckle that devolves into a coughing fit halfway through. Hyunjin jumps up to offer water, but Seungmin slaps Felix on the back and after releasing a good amount of his life force, he sits down._

_Felix wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling weakly. “Thank you, Seungmin for that. Not only did you release relieve me of my coughing but also of a great deal of my digestive system.” He jokes wryly._

__

_No one laughs._

__

_Hyunjin looks unsure of whether to stay or bolt from Seungmin’s unwavering stare and desperately tries to make conversation. “So, uh, Seungmin, I’ve seen you hanging around a lot with that underclassman, Jeongin. Are you going to take him to prom?”_

_“He’s my cousin.”_

__

_“Oh.”_

__

__

__

_“That’s not good.”_

__

_“No, it isn’t.” Seungmin agrees primly, rolling his eyes and Hyunjin appears to be on the verge of tears._

_Felix sighs, rubbing his face. He really can’t have anything easy, can he? A foot nudges him under the table, and he looks up to see Changbin smiling at him, reaching across the table to take his hand._

__

__

_Well, at least he got lucky with that, he supposes._

 

#

“Hm, no, that doesn’t sound fun.” Chan agrees, pulling a chair out at the table. “Have you talked to Hyunjin since?”

“No. That was yesterday lunch, I avoided him the rest of the day by ducking behind corners and once even jumped into a bin. By accident.” He clarifies.

“Totally by accident.”

“Yep.”

“You just opened the lid and fell right in?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Tragic.” Chan remarks, taking a Caprisun from the cupboard behind him. “Well, I must help such an unfortunate soul, I suppose. You know what you should do?”

Felix sighs, resting his head in his arms. “Give up on all hope and die knowing I tried?”

“Not quite. I was thinking more serenade him,” His brother explains excitedly, “like with an old love song or something. That’s how I got Woojin, you know.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowed. “Woojin? Isn’t he that guy that broke up with you after a day?”

Chan’s smile slips off his face. “Possibly.”

Woojin had been a music theory student in Chan’s university the year before, armed with a beautiful voice and charming smile that instantly had Chan head over heels. He’d wooed him with classic English songs such as ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ and many more outside his window, and by the end of the year, had procured himself a boyfriend.

Unfortunately, Woojin had forgotten to tell him that his placement at the university was only temporary, and the day after they got together, Chan received a text from Woojin on the plane to South Africa, complete with a apologetic selfie and equally apologetic break-up text.

It was all very polite and Woojin-like, but Chan had been devastated. He’d moped around the apartment for weeks before Felix dropped him off at Minho’s accommodation. He’d taken one look at him and immediately set about sorting him out, though Chan recalls he did sound strangely gleeful at the news of the separation.

“Chan? Hello?” Felix clicks his fingers in front of his face, startling the boy out of his reverie.

“Ah yes, what was I talking about?”

“Serenading.”

“Serenading!” Chan claps his hands together excitedly. “Ah yes, how could I forget. You should do it tonight; I’ll give you my old guitar and you can go outside Hyunjin’s window and woo him.”

Felix scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know, it just seems like a really big gesture and I still don’t know if he’s into me like that. It’s easy for Changbin, Hyunjin looks at him like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, he’s not worried about asking him out at all.” He complains, taking a sip from Chan’s Caprisun. 

“Maybe he looks at you like that too, you’ve just never realised because you’ve never even considered the possibility of it.”

“Maybe.” He agrees, but his enthusiasm is flat.

“Hey.” Chan nudges his brother’s arm. “You never know if you never try.”

#

That’s how they end up standing outside Hwang Hyunjin’s house at 10, Felix with a guitar recently brought out from the attic, and Chan, postponing his bar date with Minho in order to support his brother.

Felix strums hesitantly the opening chords of the song he’d chosen, rings glinting under the streetlights. “You can do this.” Chan reassures, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Just throw yourself into it. Like the bin.”

Felix snorts, adjusting the guitar in his grip. “If this fails, I’m beating you to death with this very instrument.” He threatens under his breath, and begins singing.

He may be biased, but Chan has always thought that his brother had an amazing voice, soft and crooning like all those records from the 70s their mum used to put on. Like a jazz singer, they used to joke, and Felix would scrunch his nose in the way he still did today and tell them to stop.

He sways along to the strum of the guitar and his voice, half-wishing their mum could be with them in that very moment to watch her son. 

The curtains on the upper floor move in one of the rooms, and Hyunjin’s face peeks out of the window. Felix stutters briefly but keeps on going, fighting a smile as he continues. 

Even in the gloom of the night, Chan can spot Hyunjin’s prominent blush as he battles his own grin. The boy leaves the window before shuffling around a bit in the room, and then goes out of sight altogether. There are a few beats of silence before Felix picks up the tune again, worry evident on his face.

“Did he leave?” He asks, biting his lip, but Chan just points to the front door in silence.

Hyunjin bursts out a second after, a scarf hastily wrapped around his neck, tracksuits on the wrong way, grinning so brightly Chan feels he might absorb all the light from the street lamps if he’s not careful.

He runs towards Felix and envelops him in a crushing hug. “I knew it,” he cheers, squeezing the life out of him, “I knew I wasn’t imagining your feelings.”

Felix laughs and wraps his arms around him just as tight, squeezing his eyes shut as he’s lifted lightly off his feet. They’re both a mess, hair mussed, clothes inside-out, noses red from the cold, but yet, they look at each other as if they’re the most beautiful thing each of them have ever seen.

Chan smiles gently, and can’t help but wonder where he went so wrong that his younger brother found his perfect matches before himself.

His pocket suddenly buzzes with a text notification, the preview showing the bottom half of Minho’s chin in what appears to be a selfie. Chan instinctively smiles at the picture, and comes to a sudden realisation as he does so.

“Oh my god.” He mutters, throwing a glance to the two hugging a few metres away. “I look exactly like that when I look at Minho don’t I?”

“I like Minho.” He realises, horrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this took a long time, but I never abandon my fics, so don't worry this will be completed for sure. Also I realize the relationship is kind of confusing but basically Felix and Changbin both like Hyunjin and want to have a polyamorous relationship but Felix is unsure if Hyunjin even likes him that way and so confesses separately so he knows for sure.


End file.
